


light upon your skin

by biochemprincess



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biochemprincess/pseuds/biochemprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May and Jemma have some tea in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	light upon your skin

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: maysimmons or fitzsimmons & tea  
> set in some indefinite future. [mild spoilers for 2x17]  
> title from the lyrics of “night must end” by sleeping at last. (a great song.)

The only source of light are the dimmed lights above the kitchen sink, but it suffices. May could prepare tea in the dark, if the situation required it.

Because after spending years in the same space with Fitz and Simmons, she knows all the right tricks when it comes to tea-etiquette. Which includes guessing Jemma’s favourite blend of tea at two in the morning.

When Coulson had announced, that he would take a part their little team on a mission, she had remained silent. But then he’d proposed to take Hunter, Skye and Fitz with him and that was a whole other story.

He had politely ignored her input, no matter much force she had put into her words. May hadn’t been able to say any more - no, this isn’t hers to talk about. Even if Coulson could use a little help in figuring out the obvious.

His plan however, brings the two women here; laying low in the bus, hidden in some far off woods, waiting for their return.

The smell of chamomile fills her nose as she pours the steaming water over the dried flowers. The herbs’s scent is soothing, exactly what they need right now. May carries the two cups of tea down the hall and the staircase to the lab.

It is less illuminated than by day, but enough to be able to read and work properly. Jemma sits at one of the tables, her eyes darting between some open papers and a laptop screen.

Jemma looks tired and a little pale. It’s nothing compared to her complexion in previous years - and May’s glad for the small things - yet it’s alarming. Her hair is pulled into a low ponytail, some strands missing and framing her face. She looks so incredibly young.

The biochemist doesn’t notice her, completely engrossed in whatever she’s reading.

May knocks at the glass doors to announce her presence. “Here.”

Jemma looks up in surprise, covering the files and closing the laptop quickly. If she hadn’t known what the girl was hiding May’d be hurt. But she isn’t. She would have done exactly the same. They’re two of a kind when it comes to certain things.

Jemma might think she’s fooling her or the team in general, but May had already figured it out some time ago.

“How did you know I’m awake?” Jemma asks. May raises an eyebrow and an apologetic smile flashes on Jemma’s face. Instead she takes the cup of tea and smells to determine which sort it is, nodding approvingly at the choice.

May takes a seat in an arms-length distance, enough to give her space, and they drink their tea in a comfortable silence.

“They’re coming back soon. You don’t need to worry.” May tells her. She can sense the fear that comes off Jemma in waves. This is why May had tried to keep Fitz at the plane, so Jemma wouldn’t have to worry. Not now.

“Yes, I’m sure. That’ not what keeps me awake.” Jemma cringes, hearing the lie in her voice. “At least not the only thing.”

“What is is then? The mission?”

Jemma shakes her head and looks away, avoiding her gaze.

“I’m checking my own blood work. For irregularities.”

This is news to her. It doesn’t really match with the information she has. “Why?”

May doesn’t want to push her, but it’s simply not what she’d been expecting. Jemma’s still not looking at her when she answers.

“The Chitauri - virus. It changed — I have antibodies in my blood, I always knew that but I – and I don’t know how —” She looks up, tears rolling down her cheeks. “— I don’t how it’ll affect the baby.”

Of course she knows that she  _knows_.

It hadn’t occurred to May, to think about the possibility Jemma’s statement implied.

(She doesn’t know what it means to fear for the life growing inside you.

She only knows the last remains of the feeling of negative plastic sticks and frustration and hope and waiting for the next chance.

And she knows the feeling of worrying about the kids you choose.

She doesn’t know if it’s the same, but she thinks it might be.)

But May has to do - to say - something now. She takes a step forward, wrapping her arms around Jemma. The girl does the same, leaning her whole weight against May. Sobs escape her throat.

“It’s going to be alright.”

May can’t predict the futures, she simply doesn’t know what’s going to happen. But she knows that those kids - her kids - deserve something good in their lives. 

They deserve happiness. And she’ll move heaven and earth to ensure that. They’d get their happy end.

“It’s going to be alright.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.” May is convinced, anything else is simply impossible. “Is there anything in the results, that indicates anything out of the ordinary?”

“No.”

“Good, because nothing will. It’s going to be okay.”

She leans a little bit back, to get a better look at Jemma’s face, checking if she really understands.

“Usually I cry on Fitz’ shoulder.” Her voice is muffled and hoarse. “I’m sorry. It’s probably the hormones, at least Fitz and the books say so. Though it’s a little early for that.”

“You want to tell me more?” May indicates towards Jemma’s still flat stomach. She nods enthusiastically.

Jemma wipes one hand over her eyes to remove the last of her tears. She then pulls a small ultrasound pic from under the pile of files and hands it to her.

It’s the most beautiful thing May has seen in a long time. And so is Jemma’s proud smile, despite her red-rimmed eyes.

 

 


End file.
